Between the Lines
by Zooie
Summary: Set a few days after Kakashi and Iruka's disagreement over the Chuunin Exams. The two have a conversation in which the most important things are those that aren't said aloud.


**Disclaimer**: Not mine.

**Warnings**: None

**A/N**: In the manga-verse, Kakashi has an apartment, but in the anime he has only a single room. This follows anime-canon. Takes place the night before the chuunin exams begin.

**Between the Lines**

There was a wooden ledge behind Kakashi's bed. It was about a foot deep and three feet high and it ran the width of the room. It collected a lot of dust because it was right beneath the window, but it was easy to clean because it was practically empty. Kakashi kept his alarm clock there, along with two framed photographs and a few books, but the rest of its surface was barren, as was most of his one-room apartment.

Oh, he'd half-heartedly attempted to make it seem homey. He'd bought a bookcase (still empty) and put up a wall calendar (three years ago), but frankly he'd never been bothered enough by the blankness to make a serious effort. When he was home he usually had better things to do than go shopping for picture frames and tea cozies, things like sleeping or recuperating or simply lying around in bed.

Kakashi liked to read in bed. If anyone had accused him of this, he would have cheerfully denied it, saying it was fundamentally untrue. He would have gone on to say that the truth of the matter was that he liked to read _adult material_ in bed, which was completely different. He then would have offered to explain why. Fortunately for them and their sensibilities, no one ever asked him. This was because hardly anyone ever came in his apartment and the few who did were too distracted by what wasn't there to notice what was. People seemed to take exception to the emptiness, which in Kakashi's opinion was an excellent reason to make minimalism a habit.

But, tangent aside, he liked to read _adult material_ in bed. His library, all six books of it, was carefully arranged in a neat row on the ledge directly behind his pillow. This made for easy access when he was lounging around waiting to be late or on those nights when he needed a little _help_ falling asleep. It also meant that the few people he invited over didn't go pawing through his books; none of them were rude enough to climb onto his bed to read the titles.

At least none of them had been rude enough so far. Anko had yet to pay a visit.

Being as it was his favorite hobby, Kakashi was naturally lying in bed revisiting some of the greatest passages of Icha Icha prose ever written when a knock sounded on his door. He made no move to answer it; he had a reputation to uphold and it did not include responding to someone's first beck and call, especially since waiting for their fifth was much more reasonable. Most people, expecting some degree of eccentricity, didn't take exception to his procrastination, a tolerance that he quite appreciated: it gave him time to finish whatever paragraph he was on. He firmly believed that quality literature should be taken seriously.

He was surprised, therefore, that his latest visitor's second bout of knocking had the same ring of desperation as most people's _fourth_. Kakashi allowed his eyebrow to rise slightly and rolled off the bed, heading to the door.

"Coming," he said loudly, shuffling languidly across the room.

The knocking stopped and Kakashi opened the door.

Umino Iruka was on his doorstep, looking somewhat unenthusiastic and ever-so-slightly intoxicated. He clutched a sake bottle in one hand and had a small potted plant in the other. His hair was dripping with rainwater and his shoes emitted unpleasant squishing sounds as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Kakashi _really_ wanted to shut the door again.

Instead he smiled and nodded respectfully to the sodden chuunin. "Maaa, Iruka-sensei," he drawled lazily, "you're out late tonight."

Iruka frowned, understanding the reprimand for what it was, and shifted his weight again, his shoes squeaking. "Forgive me for bothering you, Hatake-san," he said in what Kakashi would describe as a grudging tone. Iruka was not what one would call subtle. "I just wanted to give you these."

Iruka thrust out his hands, his fingers stopping scant inches from Kakashi's chest. He kept his arms extended, wavering slightly, until Kakashi accepted the items he was being offered. Once his hands were free, Iruka crossed his arms defensively and looked away with a scowl. His lack of enthusiasm was palpable and Kakashi was distantly annoyed. Apparently the gifts were more sacrifices to Iruka's own conscience than anything else.

In light of the chuunin's benevolent attitude, Kakashi took his sweet time examining his presents, rolling the sake bottle around in his hand and minutely examining every leaf on the plant. Iruka waited, shoulders hunched with tension and mind likely full of ungracious thoughts, and Kakashi let him stew. Moments like these were meant to be savored.

"Hmm," he eventually hummed, a long, drawn-out sound. "You know your sake, Iruka-sensei, but frankly I'm confused. What's with the plant? I don't suppose it's poisonous?"

"Of course not!" Iruka frowned.

"It's not going to try to eat me, is it? Nah, it looks too lame to be dangerous."

"This was a mistake," Iruka glowered and tried to snatch the plant back. Kakashi barely had to move to dodge.

"I didn't say I didn't want it. It's kind of cute," he said speculatively. "It'll be fun watching it die."

Iruka's mouth dropped open. "W-_what_!" he sputtered.

Kakashi would have scratched his head, but his hands were otherwise occupied. "That was a joke. Maa, you don't have much of a sense of humor, do you Iruka-sensei?"

Iruka looked like he wanted to say something much nastier than what actually came out of his mouth. "I hope you enjoy the sake, Hatake-san. Do what you want with the plant. I just wanted to extend my apologies for questioning your judgment. Now please excuse me." He inclined his head politely and turned to go.

Kakashi flirted with the idea of feeling like a jerk, but decided not to: it was too late of an hour to extend that much effort and he had no patience for empty gestures. "Bye," he said instead, giving a jaunty wave farewell, the sake sloshing inside its bottle.

Kakashi shut the door with nary a shred of guilt and walked over to his desk. He put the plant and the sake down on its surface and spent a few minutes shifting them around, rearranging them aimlessly. Bottle to the left of plant; plant behind bottle; bottle and plant in opposite corners. They seemed disinclined to find any sort of balance. It was irksome. They simply didn't fit into the apartment and he had no use for either of them, but there they were and there they would stay, barring an unforeseen disaster of the cataclysmic persuasion. Since it seemed unlikely that there would be a repeat of the Golden Week debacle of the previous year, he would just have to resign himself to cohabitation. That did not bode well for his reading habits. It would be very hard to concentrate with vestiges of the uptight man littered around his room and frankly he thought it was rather inconsiderate of the chuunin to violate his privacy like that. How was he supposed to enjoy the seductive teacher scenes with reminders of Iruka-sensei lingering in his peripheral vision? It almost seemed intentional. Was it possible that Iruka meant the gifts to be more than just a transparent parody of sincerity?

Kakashi dropped onto his bed and picked up Icha Icha, resolving to contemplate the matter. Despite what popular opinion held, adult material also stimulated the **mind**. He turned to his favorite page and started thinking.

It was an interesting combination, a plant and alcohol. Neither was what he would associate with a formal apology. The alcohol made sense, at least. It said "I've been a jerk and I'm sorry, now please get so rip-roaring drunk off of this sake that you don't remember where your own ass is, let alone what I did to you." It was in the spirit of forgiving and forgetting. He could relate to at least half of that statement –heck, maybe even all of it on a good day.

The plant, though… that was peculiar. If he had done something he regretted, he certainly wouldn't give anyone a reminder of his mistake. A plant didn't say, "hey, guys, let's just forget this whole mess and move on." A plant said, "every time you water me, you'll remember what was done to you. Dwell, _dwell_!" But, then it could also say, "every time you see me, you'll be reminded of their regret. The longer I live, the more they'll repentant their actions."

The plant looked pretty durable.

It was an awfully good bottle of sake.

Iruka was probably sincerely sorry after all.

_Now_ Kakashi felt like a jerk.

In light of his stunning display of social solecism, there was really only one thing to do. Kakashi sighed and walked to the door, sake in hand. It had only been a few minutes; Iruka probably hadn't gotten too far.

Iruka was closer than he'd anticipated. The chuunin was standing just outside his apartment, huddled beneath the overhang and watching the rain pour down. He was probably waiting for it to let up a bit before he walked home; Kakashi knew as well as he that it wasn't a good idea to use translocation jutsus when intoxicated. You never wound up quite where you expected and things could get… embarrassing.

Iruka twitched a bit as the door opened at his back and he turned to glare as Kakashi joined him outside. His gaze darted immediately to the bottle and his eyes narrowed.

"The sake's yours now, Hatake-san. I'm not taking it back."

"How about half?" he asked, doing his best to be friendly and approachable.

If Iruka's expression was any indication, his best sucked.

"I don't understand." Said with great unease.

"Would you like a drink, Iruka-sensei?" he asked cordially.

"I don't… why?" the chuunin sputtered.

"Hmm. How shall I say…? Sorry. For being rude."

"Oh." Iruka looked down and frowned, seeming to wage an internal struggle. Then he sighed and muttered, "I was rude, too. I… apologize. Again."

"Does that mean you'd like a drink?"

"Alright, but I'm leaving as soon as the rain lets up."

"Sounds fair," Kakashi said and held open the door. Iruka slipped past him and stopped, waiting awkwardly just inside.

"Where can I…?" he asked uncertainly.

"The desk chair is fine," Kakashi offered. "Could you open this while I get the cups?" he asked, handing the chuunin the bottle.

"Sure," Iruka said and went to perch uncomfortably on the edge of the proffered chair. He waited awkwardly, worrying at the bottle's seal.

It took Kakashi a while to locate the sake set; it was seldom used and he hadn't even been sure he still owned it. Eventually he found it shoved in the back of a dresser drawer, pajamas he had never worn wadded around it. He unearthed it and eyed it consideringly.

"I'll just go wash this, then," he said with some chagrin.

"Leave it; we've both drunk from worse," Iruka suggested.

"Well, if you don't mind."

"Not really."

Kakashi shrugged and crossed the room, placing the set on the desk. Iruka offered the bottle, now open, and watched as he poured.

"You didn't use the flask," he noted.

"Seemed cleaner this way," he explained. "Avoided double contamination and all that."

"Oh." Iruka accepted a cup and balanced it carefully between his fingers. He waited for Kakashi to pour his own drink before raising the cup in a silent toast. Kakashi politely mimicked the gesture and took a respectful sip of sake.

"It's good," he observed. Iruka frowned, eyes downcast, and took a rather healthier gulp. He coughed once, glared at his cup, and poured himself another serving. Kakashi wondered if his presence was really as unsettling as that.

"Your calendar expired three years ago," the chuunin said suddenly, gaze fixated on the scroll hanging across the room.

"It was a good year," he said easily, taking another sip. He let the sake loll in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, savoring the sweet flavor and the smooth feel of it running down his throat. Iruka watched him, a confused expression on his face. Kakashi raised an eyebrow and the younger man looked away.

"I didn't know you appreciated sake so much," he mumbled, slowly sipping his drink with guilty deliberation.

"This was also a good year," Kakashi replied, tapping the bottle's label with a finger.

"It was." Iruka spoke quietly, his words a hesitant admission. "All years were good back then."

"Really?" he asked, refilling both their cups. "Not many people think so."

"My parents also enjoyed sake. This was one of their favorites," Iruka said and Kakashi realized how good he was at not saying what he meant.

"So he's the regifting type after all," he mused in an undertone.

"What?"

"Nothing," he assured, and drained his cup.

Iruka frowned. "I don't understand you. You almost seem to like provoking people."

"It's a gift."

"I'd rather have sake," the chuunin mumbled and Kakashi chuckled.

"So you do have a sense of humor. I was beginning to wonder."

"Of course I do. I **am** a teacher."

"Your point, Iruka-sensei."

The chuunin grunted an acknowledgement of the slight victory, his eyes darting around the room. His gaze locked onto the books behind the bed and Kakashi knew that if he asked his premeditated attempt at humor would be no answer at all.

"You like to read in bed," Iruka said, and Kakashi wondered why exactly he felt he owed something to the other man.

"Why do you say that?" he deterred, pouring the last of the sake, an obvious attempt to avoid the question.

Iruka gestured vaguely. "Most people keep their books by their desk, but yours can only be reached if you're on the bed."

"What can I say? I'm a creature of comfort."

Iruka looked at him sidelong. "Somehow I doubt that, Hatake-san."

KaHe made a noncommittal noise and sipped at his drink.

"It's good that you read," the chuunin continued. "For Naruto, I mean. I tried to set him a good example, to get him to read things other than instructional scrolls, but, well… It was sort of a 'do as I say, not as I do' situation. Hypocrisy and Naruto do not mix well together."

"You don't like books, Iruka-sensei?"

"No, I like books." Iruka quickly swallowed his sake and placed the cup on the desk. "I **don't** like novels."

"Hmm? What kind of example are you setting for the youth of tomorrow?"

"You sound like Gai-sensei."

"Who?"

Iruka ignored him, a decision he wholeheartedly approved. "I don't like reading fiction. You can't change what happens."

"That's rather the point."

"I don't like it," he repeated, an indiscernible emotion darting across his eyes. "You know those choose-your-own-adventure books they make for children? Izumo gave me one as a joke and no matter which path I chose, I always died. I don't like novels."

The chuunin fell silent, twisting his sake cup around in his fingers with such intensity that Kakashi feared for its integrity. Iruka's admissions had slightly discomfited him. Every time he spoke their comfortable buffer of anonymity shrunk precipitously and there was nothing he could do to stop it; it had been slowly eroding from the second he invited the chuunin inside. He had intended to simply apologize, not exchange character flaws, yet the conversation had taken on a life of its own. Sake, he remembered, had a tendency to make that happen, to imbue life into even the most jaded of souls.

Kakashi wondered if Iruka had intended to send that message, as well.

Iruka had already been half-drunk when he showed up.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," Kakashi said after a pause, "but I'm afraid I won't be much of an example for Naruto. I don't read novels, either."

Iruka looked confused. "But… right there…"

"Those aren't novels. They're adult material." Emphasis on the last two words. **Strong** emphasis.

"Adult…? Oh. I… see." Iruka blushed furiously. Kakashi wondered if it was due to the nature of the books or because he'd suggested they'd be good for Naruto's intellectual development. Well, in his opinion they would, just not in the way the teacher had intended.

"I should be going." Iruka carefully set his cup on the desk and rose to his feet, swaying slightly. Kakashi examined him appraisingly.

"Are you alright to get home, sensei?" he asked. "It's still raining."

"That's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine. I just need to go home."

"Alright," he shrugged. "I'll see you to the door."

He accompanied the chuunin across the room and watched as he struggled to keep his balance as he tugged on his shoes. The younger man kicked his toe against the floor a few times, a habit long since ingrained, and turned to face him.

"Thank you for having me, Hatake-san. The sake was very good."

"Thank you for bringing it." He turned the knob and held the door open, waiting for the chuunin to make his escape. "Good-bye."

Instead of making the prompt exit he'd expected, Iruka walked past him to the landing and stopped, glancing back over his shoulder with a frown.

"Problem, Iruka-sensei?" he asked.

"No. I just… I don't understand you."

"You mentioned that earlier."

"You're not at all what I expected."

"To be honest, neither are you, Iruka-sensei."

The chuunin snorted. "Something tells me I don't want to ask. Good night, Hatake-san."

"Good night," he replied and watched as the chuunin started down the stairs, an unsteady form with fingers tight around the banister. For reasons he didn't quite understand, he called after him. "You know what your problem is, Iruka-sensei?"

"No, but undoubtedly you'll tell me," he replied, pausing on the steps, but not turning to face him.

"You're problem is that you don't trust yourself."

Iruka ducked down his head, his shoulders hunching up around his ears. It took Kakashi a moment to realize he was chuckling. He stood there on the landing, the orange light spilling from his apartment to pool around his feet, watching as Iruka laughed into the rainy darkness, and wondered. After a moment Iruka calmed, turning to face him with eyes that did not reflect the grin on his face.

"You know what your problem is, Hatake-san?" he chuckled mirthlessly.

"What?" he asked, knowing he wouldn't want to hear the answer.

"Your problem is that you trust yourself too much." Iruka turned and continued down the stairs. "Good night, Hatake-san," he called, dissolving into the unlit darkness of the street.

That night Kakashi read at his desk. The next morning he washed out the sake bottle and used it to water the plant.

-**end**-


End file.
